Approval
by Bontaque
Summary: Written for a prompt on the kink meme. Eating disorder fic with Mike Ross with Harvey sort of saving the day. H/c and angst. Warnings for ED triggers, obviously.


Mike cycled faster, pushing himself to the limit until he felt like his legs were on fire and then he pushed some more. He couldn't be late. He'd stayed up late to research their client and overslept, but Harvey needed him. He had one minute to get to the office and he couldn't be late. He just couldn't. Mike had gotten used to Harvey's lack of praise, he couldn't expect to be congratulated every time he did what he was supposed to do, so he just strived for no criticism. For some reason, Harvey's words bit through more sharply than they should have. He locked his bike quickly and all but ran into the building, slinging his messenger bag over his shoulder.

Mike made it up to Harvey's office in record time, slowing down just before the glass walls. He walked in, trying not to look out of breath, but it didn't matter. Harvey wasn't there. He hadn't needed to rush. It didn't matter, though. Mike still felt a rush, knowing that he had been where he'd needed to be. He left the folder of research on his boss' desk and walked down to his own. The usual pile of work was there and he couldn't be sure if it was from Harvey or Louis. Usually, Harvey left some kind of note and Louis wouldn't because he'd want to trick Mike into thinking it was from, or could have been from Harvey. Of course, Harvey might just not have left a note. Mike knew he wasn't that important.

Mike finished proof reading the forms he'd been left just as Louis walked by.

"Have you finished yet? I needed those done an hour ago," he said.

"Oh. Yeah, I have," Mike said and handed him the files. "Sorry."

Mike tried not to be happy about the fact that the forms weren't from Harvey. It meant he hadn't neglected to leave him a note. Mike checked that he didn't have any other work hiding around his desk before getting up and walking back up to Harvey's office.

"Do you need me to do anything?" he asked as he walked through the door. Harvey held his hand up; he was on the phone.

"No... of course. Yes, we'll be there. Okay, yes," Harvey said to the person on the other end of the phone. Mike waited until he ended the call. "Mike, I've got to go to a... dinner. Tonight. You're free, right?"

"Oh. I think so, why?" Mike asked, surprised that he had asked.

"Well, whatever you were doing, cancel it. I'm not doing this one on my own."

"Okay, do you need anything?" Mike asked.

"Not right now, I'll get Donna to get you if I do," Harvey replied.

It had been like this a lot, lately. Harvey had had more important clients so didn't trust Mike with most of the work any more. He hadn't specifically said this, but Mike couldn't think of any other reason that he hadn't been giving him work to do. He didn't blame him, Mike wouldn't trust himself with much either. He walked back to his desk where he found Rachel waiting for him.

"Hey, I was wondering where you were," she said.

"Oh, I was up-"

"At Harvey's? I should have known. I was wondering if you wanted to come get some lunch with me?"

"I'd love to, Rachel, I'm just pretty busy, sorry," Mike said.

"Oh, okay," she replied, looking slightly disheartened. "Maybe some other time?"

"Yeah, another time," Mike replied. He watched her leave, feeling slightly guilty. He wasn't busy. He had no work to do. He just worried that if he took a break, if he left the building, Harvey would need him. He had to be ready.

Mike hadn't been eating or sleeping regularly since he'd gotten this job. At first, he'd felt run down, but lately, it just seemed normal. He'd noticed a slight physical change when he'd shaved a few mornings ago. His face seemed more chiselled, harder, though not in entirely a bad way. Mike thought it made him look older, more handsome. He'd always had a bit of a baby face. He shuffled papers on his desk, trying to look busy when Donna walked across the room towards him. Mike noticed that everyone was looking at her. Donna had a way of commanding attention without saying a word. She also didn't often leave her desk, this must be important. She was carrying a large, black bag. That couldn't be what he thought it was, could it?

"Harvey wanted me to give you this. He said you should change as soon as possible and come straight up to his office," Donna said, handing him the bag. Before he could ask anything, she was walking away.

Mike walked quickly to the toilets and locked the stall door behind him. The zip was strangely loud as he opened the bag and peered inside. The suit inside probably cost more than all of the ones he owned and it showed. Was he really supposed to wear this? Mike undressed quickly and put it on, admiring the way it fit perfectly. He placed the clothes he had been wearing inside the bag and, after checking his appearance, left for Harvey's office.

"Nice suit," Harvey said, as he walked in.

"Is this... did you buy this?" Mike asked.

"I did. It's yours."

"Why? How much do I owe you?" Mike asked.

"Nothing. This is an investment on my part," Harvey said. "I can't have you coming to dinner with me without you looking the part."

"How did you know my measurements?" Mike asked, remembering suddenly how perfectly it fit him.

"Donna," Harvey said simply and Mike knew better than to question him. Donna knew everything. "It looks good on you, rookie. You look sharp."

The sudden compliment sounded weird coming from Harvey and Mike could only utter a "Thanks."

The dinner went well. Mike was funny when Harvey wanted and silent when Harvey needed him to be. Mike secretly treasured the small nods of approval he was given from across the table. He wouldn't admit to it, not even to himself.

"Be in the office at nine, tomorrow, okay?" Harvey said as Mike climbed out of the car.

"Sure, see you then," Mike said. It seemed weird walking into his apartment in such a nice suit, after a limo ride and dinner at a fancy restaurant. Mike sat down on the couch and stretched out, trying to get comfortable. He felt annoyingly full, a feeling he'd had a lot recently. As a result of him skipping meals more and more regularly, whenever Mike did eat a proper meal, he got full very quickly. Not wanting to be rude, he'd made sure to finish everything tonight but now he just felt ill. He got up and walked to the bathroom, hoping that brushing his teeth might make him feel better.

Mike caught sight of himself in the bathroom mirror and was surprised. He definitely looked older. How had Harvey put it? Sharp? He knew it was because he'd lost some weight and he found that strange. Mike had been the same weight since puberty. Not that he'd weighed himself, ever, he just hadn't changed. Maybe he could deal with losing a tiny bit more. It couldn't be that hard, he just had to keep skipping meals, right? It would probably make him look less unreliable. That would be good.

"Before you say you're too busy, I brought you a bagel. We can eat here and you can keep working," Rachel said, leaning over Mike's cubicle wall to hand him a small package. Mike couldn't avoid her this time, but he'd already eaten breakfast (half a banana) and he wanted to drop a pound quickly. He got up and followed Rachel to their usual office, taking his pretend work with him. They both worked as they ate, with Mike not really doing either. Every time Rachel looked down, he pulled a small amount of the bagel off and dropped it into his pocket. He had to take a few small bites, but that couldn't hurt. Once he was finished, he excused himself, claiming to need to see Harvey after thanking her for the bagel.

This did feel silly, he had to admit. It was just a bagel but Mike thought that if he skipped a few more, just for a few days, Harvey might tell him he looked sharp again. He'd seen that photo of Harvey from when he was younger: he looked happy, young, but never as young as Mike did now. It couldn't hurt him to lose weight, anyway, everyone was always doing it. He probably needed to and had never noticed. Harvey wasn't in his office and Donna informed him that he wouldn't be back for the day. Mike hated it when Harvey just left, he always felt a little out of place in the building when he wasn't doing work for him. Sure, he was there to help everyone, but he only felt like he was really doing his job when he was helping Harvey.

Mike smiled to himself. He had managed to shake off Rachel's lunch offer again, just as he had done yesterday. He'd gotten himself one of those small nutrional information books that he knew a lot of women carried around for reference in their purses so that he knew how much he was eating. That bagel he'd managed to not eat, with the pastrami and emmental cheese? That had over 350 calories (385 to be exact) and 14 grams of fat (5 saturated, 9 polyunsaturated). He'd started by just flipping through the book, curious about the sort of foods he usually ate. From his research, Mike calculated that if he dropped down to 1,200 calories a day for two weeks, he would reach his target and he could eat normally again. That would be easy, he was almost doing that already.

The book fascinated Mike. He'd never been one to worry about calories or anything about what he was eating, he'd never needed to. Suddenly, seeing it here in black and white, seeing that a Mars Bar was over 17% fat, Mike couldn't help visualising that. Everything he saw, everything he tried to eat, he couldn't forget about the surprising amount of fat, calories and other things he felt like he should be avoiding. Mike usually ate a lot of junk food. He just couldn't, not now. Not now that the nutritional values for all food that he encountered seemed to be lodged in his brain.

He didn't bother looking in the mirror any more. He didn't need to. He knew it was working, he'd gone down a notch on his belt. Despite not really having the energy, he pedalled hard to get to work on Thursday. He'd eaten toast (plain, two slices) for breakfast and had 61 calories to work off. He got to his desk high on the fact that he knew he'd done well, he knew he wouldn't have to keep this up for long because he'd been working so hard. He was getting this over with, he was going to look the part soon enough. In the back of his head, he knew he was going to have problems getting back to a normal eating routine. How could he just eat that crap now that he knew what was in it?

Rachel came by and asked him if he wanted a coffee because she was going out to get one. That was odd. Rachel did seem to be trying to spend more time with him lately. It would be nice, but... how did he usually have his coffee? White, two sugars? That would be about 70 calories he was having for no good reason, but he did feel like he needed the caffeine. If he cut out the sugar, he could get it down to abut 25 calories, and that would be fine. He needed something.

"Yeah, thanks, no sugar though, okay?" he replied.

"What? Why not?" Rachel asked. She sounded concerned. Why did she sound concerned? It was just sugar in his coffee.

"I don't know, I realised I eat a ton of junk and I'm trying to be good," Mike said. That sounded like a possibility, didn't it?

Harvey looked out of the window and smiled. The city always looked wonderful from this height, away from the smells and the noise. He didn't turn when his door opened, Mike was probably just dropping off the briefs he'd asked him for.

"Erm, excuse me?" came a voice that wasn't Mike's. It was female, worried. Harvey span around to see that pretty paralegal that Mike always seemed to be watching.

"Yes? What is it?" he asked, accidentally sounding slightly harsher than he'd meant to.

"It's Mike, I wondered if you'd noticed anything strange about him," she said, not meeting his eye. Mike?

"Lately? I haven't seen him much in the last day or two," Harvey said, motioning for Rachel to sit down as he walked over to his desk. "What exactly do you mean?"

"Do you not think he looks a little ill? He doesn't seem to be eating properly," she said.

"Honestly, yes, I noticed that he looked a little... drawn. I've been trying to give him less work," Harvey replied and it was true. He hadn't been giving Mike his usual workload and he'd been staying late to finish a lot of it himself.

"I... Can I be honest with you?" Rachel asked, her tone suddenly very serious.

"I'd expect nothing less," Harvey replied. There was a pause and then Rachel took a breath.

"Well, at first I thought it was the work, but he's been avoiding me... at lunch. I thought he was just working through it, but he's cut the sugar out of his coffee," she said. Harvey didn't understand. "I would have thought it was nothing if I hadn't seen the book."

"Book? What book?" Harvey asked.

"You know, one of those nutritional information guides," Rachel said, quietly. "I had a friend that never put hers down and it was months before we realised she had... a problem." Rachel's tone was unsettling. It was more than concern.

"Are you suggesting that Mike has a... similar problem?" he asked. This seemed unlikely to him, but he could see the look in Rachel's eyes. She meant this. "I'll take him out for lunch. We'll see."

"Harvey-" Rachel began.

"I wont mention it to him, Rachel, I'm not an idiot," he said quickly. "Thank you for coming to me with this."

With a final nod, Rachel left. Harvey was left with a worried feeling in the pit of his stomach and a surprised looking Donna staring at him through the glass.

"Do you want me to call Ray?" she asked.

"Yes please, tell him to get here for 11, I should be hungry by then."

Mike tapped his foot frantically as he worked, searching for a loophole for Harvey's latest case. If he tapped fast enough, for long enough, he could at least burn off something, he could at least put this time to some use. He ignored the cramping of his ankle and the dull ache of his stomach as he focused on the words before him. It was just mind over matter, he could do this. He felt like he was finally utilising his time, putting effort into something that he could see the results of.

"Mike?"

He looked up and was surprised to see Harvey standing at his cubicle. Harvey almost never came down here.

"Yeah? Uh, yes?" Mike asked.

"I want to go over the case with you," Harvey said. "Now."

"Oh, okay," Mike said, standing up and gathering the books and papers spread over his desk, trying to to be too pleased at the chance to walk to Harvey's office. However, as Harvey started to walk, Mike realised that that was not where they were going.

"Harvey, where-" he began, but Harvey interrupted.

"We're going to lunch. I had to skip breakfast this morning and I feel like I haven't had good food in ages."

"Oh. I haven't really got any money on me, we can go over this when you get back," Mike said.

"No, this is on the firm, it's fine," Harvey replied with a smile.

"But-"

"No buts. You've been working too hard, which is good, but you still need to take some breaks," Harvey said. Mike knew he had no choice. He followed Harvey down to the street and saw that the limo was waiting. They weren't even walking. He got into the car and thought, wondering why the thought of lunch with Harvey was bothering him so much. It was just one meal, one day. He could easily just write today off, but that didn't feel right. Just the idea of undoing his hard work annoyed him. He wouldn't.

"What's wrong?" Harvey asked and Mike was jerked out of his thoughts.

"Nothing, why?" Mike asked.

"You just seemed quiet. Are you feeling okay?"

"I'm fine. Just a little tired."

"Yeah? Well, you look it, kid. Make sure you get some sleep tonight."

iOuch/i. That hurt. Mike didn't say anything, but he couldn't help wondering exactly how he looked tired. He'd thought that Harvey liked how he looked lately. Maybe he meant that he looked lazy. He shouldn't have had that toast this morning.

The car pulled to a stop and the got out. Mike vaguely heard Harvey speaking to Ray but he was too shocked at their location to really pay attention. The limo had stopped outside the same restaurant that they'd been to before.

"They do lunch here, too, you know," Harvey said as he saw Mike looking confused.

"Yes, but-"

"You seemed to like it the other night, it's the most I've seen you eat in ages," Harvey said, his tone light and offhand but Mike couldn't help thinking that there was something he wasn't being told.

"Yeah, the food was lovely," Mike said. It wasn't a lie, the food had been nice at the time, but he thought back to the steak he'd eaten and couldn't picture anything but the fat.

They were seated near the window and Mike was glad that this was on the firm, the prices on the menu were obscene. He waited for Harvey to order when the waitress came, he wasn't sure what was acceptable for lunch. A bowl of carbonara pasta? Mike knew there were more calories in that than he'd eaten yesterday, but he supposed it was a normal amount for lunch. He didn't think he'd be able to handle the creamy sauce, so he ordered the tomato and basil pasta.

"So, did you find any loop holes? Anything we can use?" Harvey asked. Mike had completely forgotten why they were here, but he smiled at the use of "we".

"Yes, a few things, but I'm not sure it'll be enough," he replied, handing a few sheets of paper to Harvey and all but holding his breath as his boss looked over his work.

"Ah, yes, this could work," Harvey said. "Keep looking though, okay?"

"Of course," Mike said, looking anywhere but at the basket of rolls on the table. Bread had always been a big weakness of his, especially now. He was well aware of the calories from the carbs, but bread didn't make him think of fat. And the smell... Mike heard his stomach make a noise like a wounded animal.

"Looks like you needed lunch as much as I did," Harvey laughed.

As if on cue, their pasta arrived. The bowls were much larger than Mike had expected and he began to panic. He couldn't even imagine more than three or four spoonfuls or it fitting inside him. Harvey picked up his spoon and started to eat and Mike couldn't see any way out. He picked up his own spoon and stirred the pasta, watching the steam rise and curl around in the air, the sweet smell of the tomatoes reaching his nose. Well, if he was going to have to eat this, he could at least enjoy it. As he swallowed his first mouthful, Mike tried not to feel like he was failing at everything, but he couldn't help it. He'd worked so hard. Harvey was halfway through his pasta before he wa son his third spoonful and Mike couldn't ignore the concern on his boss' face.

That was not what he needed. Mike didn't want Harvey to think he was weak and he knew that if his boss found out that he wasn't eating (so that he could look more competent, of all things) that he would think he was stupid, so he forced himself to eat faster. He managed another four spoons before he started to feel like the pasta was collecting in his throat. He didn't feel like it had anywhere left to go. Mike sipped his water, trying to urge the food down and, suddenly, he felt sick. He had eaten so much that he physically couldn't fit any more inside himself. He was disgusted. He wished there was something he could do. Some way he could just get rid of the food, he didn't want to have to eat this. He watched Harvey reach for a bread roll and tear into it. Mike fought the urge to vomit, gulping more of the water to calm his stomach, when he had the idea.

If his body was trying to get rid of the food, why should he fight it? It was perfect. Mike hadn't really considered purging before. It seemed more extreme than just dieting. It's not like he was undereating by too much, he was still eatingat least 250 calories a day. That had to be enough. But now, he didn't really feel like he had a choice. Mike took a breath and ate more of the pasta. He had to be quick, he had to get this back out of himself before his body had the chance to betray him and digest it. He wished he was completely in control of his body. If he could just tell it not to digest the pasta, that would be perfect.

"Is your pasta good?" Mike asked. They'd been eating in silence and he just wanted, needed Harvey to think he was okay.

"Yeah, yours?" Harvey asked, reaching for another roll.

"It's wonderful," Mike replied. He'd managed eat three quarters of the bowl, but he really didn't think he could eat any more. "Do you know where the toilets are?"

"Just over by the bar," Harvey said.

Mike stood up and had to breathe in to stop himself from being sick right there. He walked as calmly as he could towards the door that Harvey had indicated and locked himself in a stall of the cleanest toilets he had ever seen. He was glad that the restaurant wasn't very busy in the day, there was nobody else here. As soon as he dropped to his knees, his stomach clenched and Mike was suddenly glad he'd drank all of his water. He didn't like to think how hard this would have been to get up without it. It hadn't been as hard as he'd expected and it wasn't long before Mike had flushed and was standing in front of the mirror. He looked fine, he thought. Much better than last week. He cupped his hands under the tap and washed out his mouth before smoothing out his suit and walking back out to the restaurant. Harvey had finished his food by the time Mike sat down. He made sure to smile, make conversation. He didn't have a problem and he was good enough to work for him. Harvey had to know that.

"Well?" As soon as Harvey had gotten back from the restaurant, Rachel had madee a beeline for his office. He hadn't expected her to understand subtlety.

"We had lunch," he replied.

"He ate it? What did he have?" she asked.

"Pasta, he ate most of it," Harvey said. "He didn't seem to have a problem, he just seemed a bit tired."

"He ate it without trouble? Nothing weird happened?" she asked. Harvey shook his head. "You're certain he didn't hide any of it?"

"No, it all seemed fine."

"Did he go to the toilet?" Rachel asked.

"Well, yes, but-"

"Did he go to the toilet and then not eat anything afterwards? Was it the last thing he did?"

"Yes. Fuck."

"Mike? Harvey wants to see you." Mike looked up to see Rachel looking over his cubicle wall. People seemed to be doing that a lot, lately. He thanked her and went straight up to the office. He hadn't managed to find any more useful information, but Harvey didn't need everything until tomorrow. He wondered what he could want. When he walked past Donna, she smiled at him in a way that seemed out of place, but he couldn't work out why.

At first he didn't think Harvey was in his office, but then noticed him standing in the corner, looking out across the city. He'd seen him doing this before and had learnt early on not to disturb him when he was thinking.

"Mike, are you okay?" Harvey asked out of nowhere.

"What? Yes, I'm fine," Mike replied.

"Mike, I need you to be honest with me." He was being honest, he was fine. He just needed to lose a few pounds so Harvey thought he looked good enough for the job again. He was hungry, but that wasn't an illness. He was pretty damn hungry, though.

"I'm fine," he said, suddenly aware of the cramping in his stomach. He wished there was something he could lean against without Harvey noticing, because he had turned around now and he was looking at him in a way that made him feel sick. Mike's vision was blurring slightly and he blinked rapidly as Harvey asked him something else that he didn't quite hear. He was fine.

Fine.

His head hurt, it really, really hurt and Mike had to bite his lip to stop himself from crying out. Was he on the floor? He wasn't standing. He opened his eyes and saw that he was still in Harvey's office, but Harvey wasn't around. Donna was standing near him looking worried.

"Donna?" he asked and was surprised at how weak his voice sounded.

"Oh, fuck, Mike," she said and rushed over. He'd never seen her less composed.

"Where's Harvey?" he asked, but at that moment, his boss returned with a glass of water, his phone to his ear.

"Now, okay?" Harvey shouted into the phone, before he put it down onto his desk and rushed over to Mike. "Mike, drink this."

"I'm... fine, Harvey," he said for what seemed like the hundredth time. The look Harvey gave him almost shattered him. Pity? Disgust? He couldn't tell.

"Can you walk? I'm taking you back to mine. Now." There was no point in arguing with him, but Mike was prepared to try.

"Harvey, I don't-"

"Mike, you come with me or I call an ambulance and get you admitted to hospital. That's it."

When the limo finally pulled away, Harvey almost let out a sigh. Getting Mike down to the car had been hard enough. He didn't need everyone knowing that his rookie had just passed out in his office and he didn't need everyone to know how much he cared. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he checked the message, aware of Mike's questioning gaze.

Donna:

It's okay to care. Let me know how it goes.

Harvey typed out a quick reply:

I care because I have to. Will do.

He just as he put the phone back in his pocket, it buzzed again. He'd forgotten he was dealing with Donna.

Donna:

No you don't. I've never seen you so worried. Just remember he looks up to you.

He replied quickly again, hoping that Mike didn't ask him who he was texting:

What is that supposed to mean?

The reply was as quick as ever:

You don't know what to do. Admit it. Mike will do what you tell him to.

Mike was looking at him with a more focused gaze, now. He seemed to be more alert, so Harvey made his reply short and he put the phone back in his pocket:

Duly noted.

The limo pulled up to Harvey's building and they both got out, Mike somewhat wobbly. Harvey thanked Ray quickly and led Mike over to his elevator, turning the key in the lock. He was sure that, in any other condition, Mike would have been more impressed with his personal elevator and with his apartment, as they stepped into the immaculate living space.

"Mike, go sit down," Harvey said and he walked to the kitchen. Donna was right, he didn't have a clue what to do. He was good at reading people, but this was too much. He did seem to listen to him, she was right there, but Donna was always right.

"Can I get you something to drink?" he asked.

"No, thanks, I'm fine," Mike said. There was that word again. Fine.

"Okay, I'll rephrase. I'm getting you a drink, you're not allowed water. What do you want?" Harvey said.

"Uh, I'll have a Coke, then, I guess," Mike said.

Harvey pulled two cans out from the fridge and went over to the couch and sat opposite Mike. He passed him the can and opened his own, taking a sip, hoping that it would encourage Mike. It didn't.

"Mike," he said, trying to speak softly. "Please. Just drink it."

"But-"

"Mike. I'm not asking you to eat a four course meal. I'm not asking you to eat anything. I'm asking you to drink a soda and keep it down so that you have enough energy to stay conscious." Harvey said. He watched Mike open the can and take a drink. He watched as he swallowed, making sure that he did, indeed, swallow. He watched as his eyes darted to the bathroom door.

"Mike, I assume you're not trying to kill yourself." It was time to be blunt. He could be nice later.

"What? No!" Mike spluttered. He meant it.

"I don't care why you're doing this right now, but I need you to listen to me," Harvey said. "Let's assume you're not doing any exercise, because you're just sitting here talking to me. Someone of your age, size and weight would need at least 2000 calories in a day to maintain your current weight, unless you have some sort of metabolic problem."

"Why are you telling me this?" Mike asked.

"Listen. What I'm saying is, right now, you need to do what I tell you. I need to talk to you and, for that, I need you to be awake. If you drink that soda and keep it down, if you eat a sandwich, you wont put on weight and undo whatever it is you've done to yourself. You'll still probably lose weight, but you wont be killing yourself," Harvey said quickly, before Mike could interrupt him again. "I'm going to make you some food and you're going to eat it and you're going to explain to me what it going on."

"But I'm-"

"And if you say that you're fine, if you even use the words fine, okay or anything similar to describe yourself or your situation, you are fired, okay?"

Mike listened to the clinking of cutlery and crockery as he sipped his Coke. Harvey wasn't going to give up on this and he didn't know how to feel about it. It was awful, it was annoying. He didn't think he could take care of himself. It was nice. He cared. Harvey cared. That was easy to forget, though, when he was pushing a plate into his hands. Mike looked up at Harvey and saw something in his face. It looked like pity, but less humiliating. The sandwich on the plate looked perfect, the bread was obviously expensive, but Mike wasn't surprised. Everything else in Harvey's life was expensive, luxurious, why wouldn't his food be the same?

The bread was thick, fluffy and filled with slices of ham and cheese, with lettuce, mayo red onions. How did Harvey know his favourite sandwich? Before he could ask, Harvey smiled at him.

"Donna," he said. "Please, just eat some of it."

Mike picked up the sandwich and took a small bite, annoyed that he didn't have another choice. Harvey's face fell at the sight of the size of the bite and he spoke again.

"Can I be straight with you?" he asked. Mike just nodded, not sure what he could be about to say. "Look, Mike, you're intelligent. You understand how things work. I need you to listen to me. I assume this is a weight thing, or a control thing, I don't know. I assume you need to keep doing what you're doing. Mike, you've lost a lot of weight in the last week, okay? Whatever you've been doing, it's worked. Whatever you've done, you could do again, easily. I'm not asking you to stop right now, I'm not asking you to get help. Not now. All I need is for you to stop for a moment. I just need you to eat enough to sustain yourself for now, so I can try to understand what is happening. If you ate that whole sandwich, you wouldn't suddenly be fat, you wouldn't even gain all of the weight you've lost. If you just ate what I'm going to give you, you wont even put any weight on, you'll just stop losing it. Is that such a terrible thing? To jus stop losing weight, for now, just so we can talk?"

"No, I guess not," Mike said, taking another bite. Harvey was rationalising everything and Mike understood what he was saying. This sandwich wouldn't undo everything. He could have it, just to stabilise. He ate it slowly, remembering that the sick feeling he'd had over the last day or two wasn't normal. He was half way through when he felt uncomfortably full.

"Harvey, I don't think I can eat any more," he said. "Just not right now."

"Okay, Mike. As long as you finish it soon," Harvey replied. "Now, can you explain to me why you've done this?"

"What do you mean?" Mike asked.

"Mike, why have you been starving yourself?" Harvey asked.

"I haven't-" Mike began, but stopped when Harvey glared at him. "Okay, I just... well I thought I looked kind of good when I accidentally lost some and so did you."

"What? When did I say this? Mike, you look like death," Harvey said. Mike flinched. "Sorry, just have you seen yourself? Mike, you're a skinny guy as it is. Why on earth would you think you needed to lose weight?"

"I told you. It was an accident and you said I looked sharp and you stopped giving me work lately and I thought you didn't think I was up to much so I thought I'd change-" Mike's feelings suddenly started tumbling out of his mouth but Harvey stopped him.

"Mike, I've been giving you less work because you've been over worked. You've been looking tired. I stopped asking you to do things for me because you weren't even stopping for meals."

Harvey's words hit him hard. Harvey hadn't been wanting to work with him because of what he'd been doing, but Mike didn't think he could stop it. He just didn't want to eat now that he knew everything that was in the food around him. It was disgusting. He told Harvey this. He'd been expecting laughter, anger, confusion, but not a smile. Not a smile and a hand on his shoulder.

"Mike, that sandwich has fat in it. But does it look like a block of lard? No. You need fat in your food, in your body. You need salt, you need protein and you know all of this. You always knew that there was fat in food, you just hadn't pictured it like that before."

"I know, but it's hard to not see it like that now," Mike said.

"Look, you don't need to lose weight. You say you were doing it for the job, but you can't do your job like this. Mike, I need you to be healthy," Harvey said.

Mike felt like an idiot. He knew Harvey was right, he realised that he'd been doing the opposite to what he needed to be doing, but he couldn't fight the nausea he was feeling. He could feel the sandwich in his stomach and he didn't know if he could change.

"Harvey, I-"

"I don't want to hear it, Mike. I'm going to help you. You're going to finish that sandwich for me and I'm going to get you some pillows so you can rest," Harvey said.

Mike took a bite of the sandwich as Harvey walked into a room that he couldn't see. It was hard, but he knew he was right. He'd just wanted Harvey to think he was doing a good job, and there was no way he could do that if he couldn't stand up on his own. Hating the feeling of the food going down his throat, he finished the sandwich. He was doing good. This was what Harvey wanted.


End file.
